


Control

by ianixela



Series: Ianixela's Hard Kinks Extravaganza [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dark Reylo, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Guns, I'm Sorry, I'm serious mind the tags for this one, I'm trash for writing this tbh, Mentions of Death, Mind the Tags, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Please Don't Hate Me, Poisoning, Rey is EVIL, Reylo - Freeform, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, but also regrets everything, old kink bingo squares, this is the opposite of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianixela/pseuds/ianixela
Summary: Ben Solo’s task was simple: to watch and report back on the activities and whereabouts of notorious assassin Rey Niima, no more. So how the hell did he end up like this, completely at the mercy of his target?
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Ianixela's Hard Kinks Extravaganza [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713241
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes, okay. So I have been writing a whole lot of very cute stuff and to balance it out I guess I had to write something not cute AT ALL. I found an old kink bingo card I’ve been holding on since 2011 (back when I started writing fics, I’m old) and saw some squares on there that tickled my fancy and my Reylo muse was like…YEP I LIKE THIS! I’m gonna write a few of those kinky bits and probably arrange them in a series or collection we’ll see.
> 
> So the kink bingo square is drugs and aphrodisiacs, this is a very literal take on the theme, you’ll have to read it and see I guess. Also: This prime Dark!Rey being predatory and Ben being very helpless. This is not cute, Rey is NOT NICE. Like she's legitimately doing fucked up things to Ben and enjoying torturing him. There’s a level of…enjoyment (not the right word but I can’t think rn) that Ben gets out of his own mistreatment but it's super unhealthy and messed up. So um be warned and MIND THE TAGS! 
> 
> Have some warnings: DUBCON (it might be open to interpretation to some of you but I’m not risking it), non-consenting drug use (poisoning), vehicular sex, bondage (not in the literal sense, you’ll see), explicit sex and language, AU, mentions of guns and death and Dark!Rey. Please tread with caution and mind the tags.

* * *

Ben Solo is helpless.

Lying down on the scuffed hardwood floor of his small apartment, on his side, trying to will his panic to subside. And failing. The wood is hard and warm underneath his cheek, and he can feel the breeze on his skin, in the opening of his shirt where he managed to get it undone before he collapsed. 

He _knows_ it, how the slippery grain of the wood feels against his skin, but it's like an echo of a sensation, hazed and muted. Just like that involuntary erection that weighs heavy between his thighs, strains at the fabric of his underwear and trousers, lust battering at him. It feels distant, like he's not really in his body, only feeling it because he _knows_ what it should feel like.

He's been careless. 

He's been careless since that night in Paris where he almost caught up to _her_. Well he did really. He did catch her, in that darkened alley behind the club where Ben had been observing her at work, both hands fisted in her leather jacket and crowding her against a brick wall.

He caught her, just long enough for her silky words of warning as he slipped in the embrace of her slick flesh. Waking up in his car, cleaned off of his wallet and gun, the bitterness of sex and failure thick on his tongue. And ever since he's been careless, mind full of this woman he's being paid to track.

It's dangerous for a man like him to put a face, and a voice to his lust. It makes him weak. It's hard not to be careless in a city like Marrakech, where he followed her, stupidly. A city that never sleeps, full of clubs and fancy hotels and glittery storefronts. All this heady, seductive pleasure, and it's easy for anyone to let go, abandon oneself to those easy pleasures in the welcome cover of darkness, smoke and mirrors. Even for him. 

Ben should have aborted the mission, after his utter failure in Paris. He was outmatched. He'd let his desire take over his cold logic and muddle his thoughts, and now here he was, drugged out of his mind on his apartment floor. Completely paralyzed, his gun just out of reach beside him. He could have brushed it with his fingers had he not been completely powerless, unable to even close his mouth, a line of saliva escaping the corner of his parted lips, pooling on the floor underneath his cheek.

He tried to think of the people that would possibly be in Marrakech at the same time he was that could possibly be responsible for this. Tried despite the veiled haze of his mind, the sluggish throbbing of his heart. 

Yes he had _enemies_ , he had enemies everywhere, an occupational hazard of sorts. But this was too refined for them. Too deliberate. They were thugs, messy, easily swept aside. This had been carefully planned. 

He knows who did it. He knows it fucking perfectly, and he's terrified. Terrified yet so aroused by it. That she would go through the trouble of setting this stylish trap, just for him.

But how and when? Ben wracked his mind for answers. What had he been doing today? He pulls and pulls at the memory, the haze of the drugs in his system dampening at his consciousness.

He'd been to a teahouse earlier in the day, to take the edge off. He'd played a quiet chess game with an old man in a secluded alcove, practicing his French with the friendly old man, the attendant bringing them mint tea and dates. He hadn't touched the dates, had politely refused the older man's offered cigarettes, but he'd drunk the searing hot tea, sickly sweet, with a hint of bitterness. He loosely guessed that the drugs had been in there. Perhaps. Or had it been in the whiskey he poured himself at home, the glass overturned on the floor beside him? There was no clear way of knowing to be sure. 

He briefly attempted to make a list of the possible drugs that induce this kind of paralysis mixed with arousal but couldn't think of anything. He couldn't think at all really, his mind so sluggish, meandering, so unlike his usual cold control that the helplessness sent him into a panic again. That, and that chemically engineered lust that overwhelms his mind, keeps him hard and straining against his clothing. It's humiliating how easy it is to subdue him, control him.

Ben is just an animal, and now he's trapped.

Breathe in, breathe out. Blink. Focus. 

This is the thin line between panic and control. Breathing.

The breathing stops for half a second when there is noise coming from the entrance hall. The door opening in a hiss, and the familiar rattle and clicking of the lock. And he is back to panicking. He can't shape words, barely making any sounds, and all he manages is a gurgling, frustrated groan at his utter helplessness. 

Lithe footsteps approach, closer and closer, creaking on the hardwood, until a pair of high heeled boots come into view. Italian leather, glossy black. A haze of fruity tobacco and luscious, intoxicating fragrance. He knows, he knows it's her and he wants to look away but he can't. Nothing can help him.

And then there's a voice. A voice he hears in his dreams, a voice he thinks of when he frustratedly masturbates in the shower, trying desperately to take off the edge of his desire. A voice he reviles yet aches to hear. 

Her voice. _Rey_.

"Oh Ben…”she says, in accented French, a breathy murmur, sounding so amused, "You were getting so close, too close, again. You know what happens when you get too close…" 

Rey crouches, a graceful bend of knees, and her cool fingers brush strands of his hair away from his face, lovingly almost, like one does a fever-stricken child.

"I hate having to punish you, Ben.” she switches to crisp English, his mother tongue, slick vowels musical and elegant in her full mouth.

Rey pushes gently on his shoulder and he rolls to his back, bonelessly. She is wearing all black. Black pencil skirt and a silk button down blouse, high neck open at the throat, a well tailored jacket on top. Elegant as hell. Her chestnut hair is pulled back from her face in a low bun, a stray strand sticking to her temple. She's wearing a little makeup, kohl on her eyes, long lashes fluttering. 

She’s gorgeous. More beautiful than any other woman ever could be to his eyes.

Her beauty is a useful asset when one's work is to seduce politicians and military men, CEO’s and financiers. Infiltrate, seduce, _execute_. Her modus operandi is well known, and it works. She’s already done a fair bit of damage in the past few months, Interpol on her trail like a hound.

Her mouth is twisted into a smile. She always smiles, a soft, confident curve of sinfully full lips that fills Ben with profound hatred. How can she look so fucking _poised_ and composed when he's boiling, burning inside with a mixture of lust and anger. 

Rey stands again, moves away for half a second and then hands and arms slip underneath his own, curl around his midsection and drag him across the floor. She’s strong, athletic, and she manages to drag his weight across the floor with relative ease. 

Away from the living room, and his gun, and into his dimly lit bedroom, where he's lifted and dragged onto the low bed, Rey arranges his lax limbs carefully, wedging a pillow underneath his head. And then she's leaning over and kissing him. A soft press of glossed lips to his own chapped ones.

"I need to show you that you're not the master here…my sweet Ben.” she whispers against his lips, fingertips brushing his temple, "You're fooling yourself if you think you have any sort of control over this…" and then lips brush his earlobe, and he desperately wishes he could move, wishes he could touch, "You should've given up after Paris."

Paris. 

Paris was such a failure on so many levels. Ben has always been good at denial. Denial of his failures, denial of the reason he came to Marrakech in the first place, that it was just about his assignment and not because he wanted to see Rey again, however fucked up that was.

She pulls away then, stands. Rey shrugs out of her jacket, drapes it on a nearby chair, pulls her gun out of her lower back holster, a snub nosed Beretta with the serial numbers filed off, perfect for her delicate hands. She places it on the nightstand before undoing the mother-of-pearl buttons on her blouse, efficiently, tugging it out of her skirt, letting it fall alongside the jacket. She’s naked underneath, slender, gold and freckled in the dim light. Lithe muscle gliding smoothly under a sweat-shimmery expanse of fine grained skin. 

"You let your emotions get to you. Such a dangerous game, _boy_ …so dangerous…That's why you fucked up in Paris, you know. You gave yourself away with that one careless mistake. It was so easy to find out everything about you after that. I have to give it to you though, you'd been very thorough before that. I'd barely even noticed you were shadowing me. Anyone but me would have been completely oblivious. But that night…you _really_ fucked up."

He'd been jealous. 

He'd been jealous of the target that Rey was seducing. He'd been shadowing her for a year, following her, gathering evidence against the First Order, the shady syndicate that employed her to do their dirty work. 

Hours and hours of recorded phone conversations, files full of photographs, reports in his small, cramped but neat handwriting. He'd seen her, many times, getting on hands and knees for old, lecherous businessmen and millionaire mob-bosses. He’d seen her part her thighs for CEOs and politicians in luxurious hotel rooms from a perch across the street, through the camera lens, and somehow felt detached from it. 

Ben hated them, yes. Hated them for having her, for taking something from her he longed for and would never be able to have. But he was resigned then, knowing how shameful and utterly unprofessional he was being with his feelings. For wanting to know her. For wanting to be inside her.

Rey was a dangerous woman. And who she worked for, even more.

Paris had been different. Maybe because Rey had to give it her all. The target was married, part of the government, and there was so much at stake that the man had been hesitant. She had given her everything in the seduction game, and somehow had seduced Ben in the balance. 

He'd listen to the phone conversations between Rey and her target, and simmer with rage at the playful banter, the whispered endearments, however rehearsed they were, they sounded real. So real. 

Smoke and mirrors, and yet, he’d fallen for it _hard._

"That night you showed up at the club, I could feel your anger…and it was so beautiful." she purrs, taking things from her jacket pockets and leaving them beside the gun before undoing her belt, leisurely unzipping her skirt.

The tight garment slides down her long, slim legs in a whisper of fabric. Underneath are sheer stockings and a delicate black lace garter belt. Nothing else, bared to his eyes.

He'd lost it that night in that exclusive Paris club. He was supposed to observe, hopefully record some of the conversation, but the instant the target was gone to wait at the hotel, he'd lost it. 

Allowed himself to let go of his control, jealousy taking over and before he'd known what the hell he was doing, he was dragging a beautifully dressed Rey in the back alley behind the bar. 

Then there was a yielding mouth underneath his, and willing flesh encasing him tight, so tight. No words, just the thudding of their hearts and harsh breaths and gasps, and a drawn out moan as Rey came from the drag between their bodies, leaving the imprint of her teeth in Ben’s neck. Her wet flesh slicking his lower belly and the front of his trousers. Ben felt the needle dig in his jugular as he came, cursing, messily in her tight body, and Rey’s hazel eyes, amused still, yet a little sorry as she pushed down the plunger. Ben had slumped against Rey instantly, squeezing her between his own body and the wall, unconscious before he could even articulate anything.

"Can't you see that this obsession is gonna destroy us both?"

Rey comes close again, naked but for those thin bands of lace around her waist and thighs, the stockings and boots. She undoes the buttons of Ben’s shirt with practiced ease, parts the folds of fabric, fingers landing on a raised nipple while the other hand holds his chin up to kiss him again. Her mouth is sweet and heady, a mixture of tobacco and fruity lip gloss, and Ben wishes he could reciprocate, his tongue and lips completely useless. He wants to strangle her and he wants to kiss back at the same time.

 _Never_ in his life has he been this conflicted about somebody. 

Rey straddles him, pries his trousers loose and looks down as she pulls them off his hips, hooking her thumbs in his briefs. Down and down, and she sighs with pleasure, green-gold eyes glittering when she catches sight of Ben’s cock, huge and hard and leaking glistening wetness. She runs her fingertips up the underside, teasingly as she reaches for whatever she put on the table earlier. A foil packet.

Rey makes quick work of the condom, slides it on him deftly, giving him a smooth caress before pulling away.

"I'm gonna have my way with you now. And there's nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing." she murmurs, shoving two of hers fingers in Ben’s slack mouth.

Her fingers are cool and clean tasting, nails painted a red so dark it’s black in the dim light of the apartment. They press on his tongue, gathering his saliva on her fingertips.

Ben wishes he could bite. Wishes he could suck. The fingers pull out saliva-slick and Ben looks on as Rey reaches down between her thighs, fucks herself with her fingers, eyes lazily shutting with pleasure. 

Ben lays there helpless when Rey slides down on him, sits on his cock slowly. Her head thrown back in rapture when she settles on top of him, his cock bottoming out deep inside her. He feels her, tight and slick around him but it's a far off sensation through layers and layers of hazy veils, like feeling skin through fabric. He can't even thrust up to meet Rey’s downward strokes when she starts riding him, slow at first, adjusting to his size and the lack of response. And then hard. Hard and fast, cheeks flushing as she falls back, spine curled, guiding herself up and down Ben’s cock. 

Muscles in her thighs and stomach bunching, tensing, skin glistening in the dim light and Ben wants to feel those lean thighs, the curve of her ass, touch everything he sees. But he's powerless, experiences her through second hand, drug induced sensation. 

Ben seethes. Rey knows him well, knows that making him completely powerless is the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. Knows that this is the most delicious torture she could've engineered for a man so obsessed with control.

He has Rey willing in his bed, naked and beautiful, using his body for her pleasure like a sex toy, and he can't even touch her.

"Oh Ben…you feel so good… _so good_ …" Rey moans, hips rising and falling, eyes closed in delighted focus as she rides him in a symphony of gasps and slick sounds. 

Rey reaches down between her thighs where they are joined, rubs at her swollen clit with a keening moan. Her eyes are like twin braziers when she looks down at Ben, mouth quirked up, soft, tender almost. But Ben knows better. Rey is _gloating_ , tasting her victory over the weak animal that he is. 

She’s winning. She’s won the entire round because Ben is powerless and she's using him, and Ben loves her for it. He loves her, in a twisted, useless, self-destructive way. 

Rey leans down, kisses him again, tongue delving past slack lips, hips still bucking, swaying, deliciously so through the glittery haze of confused lust and sensation in his mind. Rey pulls away, just a little, whimpers against his lips, shocking in her sudden vulnerability.

"I know you love me. Tell me you love me."

The drug has rendered him completely mute, but if it hadn't, he's afraid of what he would've said. He would have told her that he loves her, easily complying to her demands. Words of love are dangerous words. But Rey knows this. She knows this and it's the knowledge that has her cunt clenching like a vice around him, shuddering with pleasure against his still body. 

Rey comes, in gushing bursts of liquid heat around his cock while she kisses him, keening low in her throat.

"Sweet… _sweet_ Ben…” she moans, her insides squeezing him in waves, perfectly tight, and for the hundredth time that night Ben wishes he could feel. 

_Really_ feel, without the hazy veil of the drugs dulling everything, muffling sound and touch. All he feels is a soft muted echo of Rey’s fluttering orgasm, and the wrenching pain of his heart breaking.

He hears Rey leaving more than he really sees her. It's like the exertion has deepened the pull of the drugs in his blood, dragging him deeper and deeper, his heart sluggish, breathing tampered down. He hears the rustle of clothing and then heeled footsteps around the bed, remotely feels Rey’s cool fingers on his face, caressing. A slick press of her glossed lips against his own.

And then the steps are echoing on the floor, away from the bed, the bedroom and out of the apartment without faltering, without pause. The rattle of the door then nothing.

It takes an hour before the drug wears off. He manages to lift a hand, twist his fingers in the rucked sheets. It takes a little while more to be able to reach between his legs, trousers still bunched around his thighs, his stomach slick with the musky essence of her body. Ben knows that he will come this time. He awkwardly pulls off the condom, hands clumsy, and then jerks himself off. Frustratedly, imagining what Rey felt like riding him, seeing her face and her glittering eyes. That sinful smile. He can still taste her through the pastiness of his tongue.

He groans when he comes at last. He comes hard, thighs and stomach clenching, come pouring out of him in a burning gush that hazes his vision with white, blissfully erasing his tormentor for a few seconds. Then he comes to and feels dirty, used, abused, not just because of the slickness of the mingled fluids on his pale stomach. 

He manages to get up on unsteady feet, gets out of his clothes and stumbles over to the bathroom where he promptly empties his stomach, twice, the acrid burn of bile in his throat erasing all traces of Rey’s taste. He gets into the shower, washes himself with rough, angry strokes, knowing that he'll never feel fully clean of this. Tainted. 

Fresh clothes, his gun back in it's shoulder holster, Ben slips on a jacket and his shoes, heads out into the night. With a little luck, he can catch a cab to the inner city, and there, hopefully, he can find something to help him forget this encounter.

Hoping against hope. Because he knows that the only way for him to forget Rey is when one or both of them dies. Until then, the game continues. 

Somehow he hopes that he will be losing a few more rounds before it's game over. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> So yeahhh we are kinda far from the fluff with this LOL. I wanted to portray this feeling of physical and emotional helplessness with this and I really hope it came across nicely. This is kinda where the bondage goes, I mean, can’t move, can’t talk, can’t react…and can’t verbalize consent either. No enthusiastic consent there. 
> 
> Although this reads as definite dub-con for me, the fact that Ben kinda wants this to happen to him as much as he's afraid of her can really blur those boundaries. But consent is about being able to vocalize what is ok and what isn't, and in this case Ben can't even make noises. To me that classifies as dub-con, but you’re welcome to interpret it as you wish. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this foray in Dark!Rey, kinky territory, let me know in the comments what you thought (if you could stomach it of course, I’m aware this is not everyone’s cup of tea) and what kind of other kinks would be of interest to you. I’m gonna go along with the bingo card but I’m open to suggestions. Thanks for reading friends! xoxo
> 
> PS I'm updating Rip Tide Friday as usual but it might be later in the day, cheers!


End file.
